Speak Not A Whispered Word
by gagagagirl8
Summary: What would have happened if the Light had strayed from the nautical theme after 'poor, disgraced Ocean Master' left the Light? After centuries of hiding in the shadows, Gotham's oldest secret society has finally stepped into the Light...


"Our preparations are complete," said an eloquent, if a bit distorted voice from behind a white mask.

"You have your…leader?" The second voice came from a screen settled carefully in front of the man with the white mask. His speech trailed off for a second as he searched for the word the other had used in their last meeting.

"Yes. As soon as he saw his true place he immediately accepted," the masked man boasted proudly. His smile could be heard through his voice.

"Then you are ready? All of you?" the voice from the screen questioned.

"Of course," came the quick and confidant reply of the figure in the white mask. A smile twisted the scarred face of Vandal Savage, the man of the screen.

"Then you can tell your Court of Owls that we welcome you to the Light."

 _January 5th, 2:43_

 _Blüdhaven:_ _4 Hours Earlier_

The cold, winter wind whipped through Nightwing's hair as he perched on the edge of the roof of one of Blüdhaven's banks. He was breathing hard, having just outrun the combined efforts of the Red Dragon and the Black Scorpion gangs. The two gangs had been having a "top secret" meeting (Nightwing had learned about it a week beforehand) to discuss territory. A tentative truce had held in place for a few months between the two groups, and this meeting was the first major interaction between them, in their usually very active rivalry, in the past while. Nightwing had snuck in, disguised as a member of the Black Scorpions. As soon as tensions began running high, he revealed himself, giving the gangs a common enemy to fight and successfully preventing a gang war.

He smiled as he looked over the city. Today had definitely been productive; in Blüdhaven and on the Team. Tim had successfully led his first squad (he would be a great leader someday), the Team had uncovered new information about the Invasion, and Zeta Squad was currently on Rann, finding out even more. The Invasion. That thought still worried the masked hero, but he pushed it away as he moved to finish his patrol.

Before he could leave the rooftop, a rustle from the corner caught his attention. Nightwing whipped around, escrima sticks drawn. He immediately wondered if the Red Dragons or the Black Scorpions could have caught up to him yet, but quickly dismissed the notion. He was crouched, listening carefully for any other disturbances. The peaceful silence was suddenly rattled by the sound of a man gracefully flipping down from the neighboring building's higher roof, and landing with a thunk near the opposite end of the bank's roof. Nightwing tensed as he took a split second to study the man who had just appeared. He wore a black armor-looking outfit, with several knives strapped to his chest and waist. There were many pockets attached to his belt that looked like they were for storing weapons and two swords sheathed and attached to his back. Generally, the person who had just landed in front of Blüdhaven's vigilante looked like a typically assassin or mercenary, except for his mask. It was a black hood sort of thing with golden goggles that had yellow lenses. But the real kicker was the golden accents on the mask, used to make the wearer's face look like an owl's. And, in that case, the man's golden gauntlet's claw-like fingers were a bit out of the ordinary as well.

"And I thought this perch was all for me," Nightwing quipped as he calculated how long it would take the masked man in front of him to draw one of his many weapons. The guy wasn't in a fighting stance, he was just watching Nightwing.

"I'm afraid this perch is more crowded than you might think," replied a formal, slightly raspy (as if from disuse) voice from behind the mask. As if waiting for a queue, four more people (three men and one woman) dressed in almost the same outfit as the first man leapt down from the rooftop the first came from.

"Did I miss the memo for the party or something?" Nightwing smiled and remarked, playing for time as he racked his brain for any bird themed villains, desperately trying to place the people in front of him to an organization and a purpose. He only came up with one possibility. Though, that possibility was completely silly and impossible.

"No, you wouldn't have received any warning," the tallest one spoke, and then quickly drew two of his knives and ran at the vigilante. His movements were a bit jerky, as if he was doing something he wasn't used to. Nightwing, still in his original fighting stance easily met this attack.

"Be gentle, we need him alive," the first, who he presumed to be their leader, called as the rest of them joined in too.

The Justice League's Team's fearless leader studied the fighting styles of his unknown adversaries as he parried and delivered blows. They were clearly highly trained, but their moves seemed predictable and outdated. Nightwing expertly warded off their blows, but he was overwhelmed and quickly had his heels against the edge of the roof, a five story drop behind him. He felt a rush of wind behind him and saw a flash of clothing before everything went black. There had been six of them.

 _January 5th, 3:17_

 _Unknown Location in Gotham City_

Nightwing woke up chained to a pole. That was the first thing that registered as he regained consciousness. He remained still and took inventory of all the available information. He was chained to a poll by the wrists and ankles with his head lolled against his chest, mask still in place. He silently thanked whatever forces had prevented them, whoever they were, from taking it off. They had taken his weapons and utility belt, though. He heard the indistinguishable chatter of many voices echoing around him. The sheer number of voices he heard made him wary, and he felt himself tense slightly. Obviously, someone else had noticed, Nightwing thought as he heard footsteps make their way towards him.

"He's awake," said the slightly raspy voice Nightwing recognized as belonging to the man from earlier. He felt a foot nudge him, and he raised his head to survey his surroundings. It was… not what he was expecting, to say the least. Dozens of people sat, in formal attire and white masks carved to look like owls, in wooden rows on plush red seats behind a gold-colored bar, a level above where his pole was. Nightwing noticed that there was no consistency in race, gender, or age. He even saw a little girl in a pink dress, who couldn't have been more than 8 years of age, clutching a small china doll! The walls around where he was were painted red, hung with paintings, and had lavish, scarlet curtains hung in front of openings. Marble, carvings, and candles all decorated the fancy room. Heck, even his pole was gold-colored! One of the people in the white masks, who looked to be the leader, stood at the center of the upper floor and prepared to speak.

"Welcome, Gray Son of Gotham, to the Court of Owls."


End file.
